


The things I go through

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22158655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: The Third Doctor catches Dhawan's Master trying to steal his TARDIS and they talk over tea. Mostly because I needed to process las ep's horrible story solution.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Third Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 125





	The things I go through

The alarm just wouldn't stop, and with an exhausted growl, the Doctor wiped the sleep out of his eyes and rolled out of bed.

Several armed men were already running up and down the UNIT corridors, trying to sort out the mess, but what would they know?

He should've just not listened to the Brigadier and slept in his TARDIS like he used to. But no, here, take a bedroom, Doctor, what are the people supposed to think when they see you come in and out of this box, Doctor, you can sleep in the room next to Miss Grant's, Doctor. He rolled his eyes.

He entered his office – For all he cared, UNIT could be robbed and infiltrated, that might bring a bit more excitement into his daily life, but no one was going to take his equipment.

The Doctor came in just in time to see his TARDIS door fall shut.

He snorted.

Well, he should've known it was the Master. Now he was also annoying them at night time. Well... He let out an amused chuckle. He wouldn't come very far with his TARDIS' dematerialisation circle still removed.

“It's not working, old chap.”  
  
He patted the wood affectionately, despite not being left in now that the Master had locked the door behind him.

Hearing the desperate attempts of starting the dematerialisation was like music to his ears – Why would he be the only one getting stuck in this old thing? Once the Master came out of his ship, he'd be surrounded and brought to prison and he would be able to visit him everyday and...

The TARDIS door opened, and someone who was decisively not the Master stuck his head outside.

“Come on in then, you old fool.”

A hand grabbed his lapels – Now, this was really most uncalled for – and dragged him inside.

The Doctor stumbled a few steps after being let go, trying to find his voice again, but only confused stuttering came out. He used that time wisely – To fix his velvet coat and frills.

Finally, he found back the words he was desperately looking for.

“What... what do you think you're doing? This is my ship.” He pushed the man off his controls, not sure what to do now that he stood there – With that part of his brain effectively wiped and his dematerialisation circuits still removed, there wasn't to do.

The stranger rolled his dark eyes, but stayed put, his arms crossed.

“Well?” he asked, while the Doctor wasted time staring at him rather than leaving. Brown, warm eyes, that seemed to be able to carry infinite emotions, but for now only seemed infinitely tired. Indian descent, maybe? Dark hair that looked as if he'd been plucking on it all day long, his full lips quivering in insanity. Why would this man try and steal his TARDIS?

“Well, it's not going anywhere, is it?” the Doctor grumbled and turned off the motors.

With the tone of a person trying his best to stay calm while being undeniable enraged, the man replied, “And why's that?”

“For one,” the Doctor replied, "because it is my ship...”

“One trip!” he shouted, indeed plucking at his hair now. “I need one trip! Just to get my TARDIS back and get out of this bloody time zone.”

The Doctor froze.

Was this...?  
  
“I can't fly it and I most certainly won't just let anybody take it and leave with it.”

"Well I can!” the... man shouted back with exasperated tone. “You can come with me! I can show you how! I can take you away from your exile. What do I care? Just give me one trip, Doctor!”

“Oh please,” the Doctor snorted. “I wouldn't give you my TARDIS if you and me were the last Time Lords alive. Now kindly refrain from shouting at me.”

“I have been left alone in World War 2, gotten my TARDIS stolen, my perception filter taken out of service, surrounded by Nazis, stood up against a wall, killed them all, had to live in human's care in some... mouldy old attics for years and believe me, racism did not just disappear after the war, oh no, it did not. So don't tell me not to shout at you. I will shout at you for as long as I haven't left this bloody time period and made her _pay_.”

“Uhm,” the Doctor let out, not sure what to reply to that right now. It was painstakingly obvious who his guest was and though he didn't know who the person was that made him go through all these horrible things, he felt a surge of anger at the thought alone.

Cruel, he thought. Despite his oldest friend's many flaws, that was just unnecessarily cruel.

“Tea?” he offered weakly.

The Master took a deep breath and the Doctor, halfway expecting another fit, braced himself, but he simply let it all escape in a heavy sigh.

“Sure,” he finally muttered tiredly. “Tea sounds good.”

At some point, UNIT had given up on the glaring alarm and sent everybody back to bed, which only suited the two of them right – They were now sitting in the Doctor's TARDIS kitchen by tea and biscuits, the Master had his head leaned on one hand, the other playing with the spoon in his tea. He looked like a tired little child.

The Doctor sighed.

“You could drink it, you know? That's what I made it for.”

“You still drink your tea with too much sugar,” he grumbled back.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Roughly a thousand years later,” the Master muttered. “And you still use too much sugar.”

“I'm not sure, what you're trying to...”

“You constantly want me to change,” he roared, his fist hitting the table. Their cups with tea clattered dangerously. “You want me to grow and be this person that I'm not. But it's been a thousand years and you still kick me over the edge, sell me out, leave me behind, abandon me without as much as a second thought. You try to, what, make me _good_ , help me _grow_?” He spit those words out in disgust. “But you refuse, you refuse to ever look in a mirror, see yourself, look at your own flaws. And you refuse me, every single time, every possible moment, every given opportunity. I am tired, Doctor.”

That much was visible.

The Doctor stared down his own tea, not sure what to do or say. _Him_? These things... had been done by him?

It turned out there was no need to say anything – The Master could read it all from the shame on his face, snorting loudly.

“Never cruel, never cowardly, hm, Doctor?”

He gulped.

“I'm...” he shook his head. “Is that what's our future going to be like? All this... this bitterness?”

“Have you convinced me you'd run away with me yet? Have you invited me inside your TARDIS, told me you'd leave them behind and then left me trapped in a time loop yet? I wonder.”

The Doctor looked back into his cup.

“Alright,” he finally brought out. “I see your point.”

The Master shook his head, his eyes simmering with emotion. Sadness, tiredness, something so old and far away, it sent the Doctor shivers down his spine.

“No,” he sighed. “You don't. You never do. You only see what you want to see, the evil, ruthless monster, and at some point, I started giving that to you, because if that was me, if I could only be that, I'd finally be seen.”

“But you...”  
  
“I know what I did,” the Master shouted. “And believe me, you don't even know half of it.” A haunted expression rushed over his face. “But I needed you.”

His voice had gone quiet now, so quiet he could barely make out the words.

“Well, I'm here now,” the Doctor replied softly, but no other words left the Master's lip. He was staring at some point over his shoulder, eyes going into nothing, a deep sadness on his face that seemed to have swallowed all the rage.

The Doctor felt worry tug at his hearts.

“I can't talk to you,” the Master finally sighed. “I already told you too much. I'm disrupting the whole future.”

The Doctor frowned.

“Since when do you care?”

With a shrug, the Master took a long sip of tea.

“I try not to disrupt too much, when it concerns my own future.”

“Yes,” came the answer, dropping from irony. “You seem to be very fond of where you are now.”

The Master smiled sadly.

“Doesn't matter what I change, Doctor, the one thing that will stubbornly stay just as it is, will be you.”

“For what it's worth, old chap,” the Doctor replied. “I am sorry.”

The Master's eyes flicked up to him. For a second, he seemed to fight against emotions, then took a deep breath.

“Use my name.”

“What?”

He swallowed, hard, then repeated, “Use my name. Come on, Doctor. You've never done it, in this body, not once. Stop refusing me. Say my name.”

“I don't say it, because it's ridiculous. Master of what? Of the universe? Please. Of me? Hah.”

Their eyes met and the Doctor's hearts skipped a beat. He looked.. so broken, so entirely different from the Master he knew now, full of life, mischief and playfulness in his eyes.

“Just say it, Doctor.”

“I'm sorry... Master,” he sighed, because he knew he owed him that much. And for all he knew, his future would never give it to him. “It's still a rubbish name, though.”  
  
“Yes,” the Master sighed. “Your life belongs to no one but yourself. You would think that.”

He got up, his tea cold now, almost untouched. The Doctor got up, too, uncertainty edged onto his face.

“Will you be alright?”

The Master shook his head. “Probably not, no. But it's nothing you should concern yourself with.”

The Doctor looked as if he wanted to object, but before he could, the Master had stepped closer, pressed his lips gently against his and every protest left the body before him, as he sunk into the kiss.

With a smirk, the Master held him, for second simply enjoying the moment, before lifting his head, gently stroking away a stand of the Doctor's hair, before laying a finger on his forehead.

“What...”

“Nothing to worry about,” the Master whispered darkly. “Just a nice little stunt I picked up from your own box of tricks.”

The Doctor sunk unconscious within seconds, caught by the Master, who carried him to his TARDIS bedroom, gently took off his shoes, humming as he pulled the blanket over him.

For a moment, he stood, watching the Doctor. He could end him, there and now, changing the unending desire that had controlled his life. Could fix this TARDIS and run away into a universe that would be... what? He sighed.  
  
Incomplete.

It scarcely bore thinking about.

No, better to leave him here. His memories were wiped now, his own presence nothing but a ghost that would soon fade. He had a whole set of games before him to play with his past, before they both turned into the cruel, twisted version if themselves, that would one day feel set in their ways so much, they'd forgotten what they felt for each other.

"I once asked you, well, will ask you, how it felt. Destroying Gallifrey like that," he whispered, knowing the man couldn't hear him. "I know now."

Lost in thought, he stared at the still body before himself, then had an idea that made him smile.  
  
He was sure his past would give him a trip in his high-functioning, working TARDIS that wasn't a pile of trash.

And boy, the look he'd give him once he heard that his Doctor had called him by his _name_.


End file.
